


Sun's coming down, I'll stay

by 14hrflight (25postcards)



Series: Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha Louis, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atypical ABO, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Check Ins, Dom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Genderfluid Harry, Healthy Relationships, Light Angst, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Power Bottom Louis, Relationship Discussions, Rimming, Rut, Sub Harry, Top Louis, heat hotels, lots of stuff happens in this fic but mostly long deep discussions in bed, one scene where it gets a little dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/25postcards/pseuds/14hrflight
Summary: He’s snuggled up against Louis, awake early as usual, but too lazy to go through his morning routine. He’s too warm, and outside of their (well, Louis’) bed, it’s getting colder the closer they get to November. Harry pushes his nose into the crook of Louis’ neck, smelling him, his scent thick and palpable. It’s almost too strong with his rut nearing, and Harry’s body tenses every time he does this, but he just pushes his nose further into Louis neck defiantly, challenging his warring body.Fuck you, you don’t tell me what to do. You don’t get to tell me who I like,he thinks irrationally.--It's Harry's turn to help Louis through rut.Title is from Carly Rae Jepsen's "Bucket."





	Sun's coming down, I'll stay

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to first say a big, big thank you for the overwhelming response and support on part one. i really did not anticipate it at all and seeing everyone leaving comments even to this day has really kept me motivated, and without the constant kind words I would have never finished.
> 
> this was a really wild journey for me. in between publishing part one and this, i discovered a lot of gender stuff about myself, and i owe a lot of it to being able to have this outlet! i want to specifically thank hima for hearing me complain almost weekly about how badly i wanted to finish this but kept getting stuck. to jen, who is the sweetest and will drop in to beta at any moment's notice! and to blake, who was such a big cheerleader to me and who i had wonderful, wonderful discussions with throughout. also special mention to istajmaal for their genderfluid harry series that has always resonated with me from the first read.
> 
> thank you again for reading. i hope this series gives people the motivation to explore atypical A/B/O, something that has become super close to my heart!
> 
> **some trigger warnings:**  
>  \- there are heavy themes and discussions on harry's gender and his dysphoria.
> 
> -there is a moment in louis' rut where he's not fully there, because he's so deep in rut, so it could be considered dubcon. 
> 
> -their relationship is definitely not perfect, and there are a lot of issues between them that don't get truly resolved, but know that they're working on it.

_The first time Harry meets Louis_

 

His mum’s frazzled, pulling him along the pavement to the stone steps of a building with a sign that reads “Corden’s Daycare.” She’s on the phone, late for her meeting, mobile tucked against her ear.

  
Harry takes in the gently crumbling brick of the house that he doesn’t think looks much like a daycare. It’s more of a cozy cottage with a big garden. His mum shakes hands with the man with gingery hair at the steps, and he greets Harry with a warm hug, so Harry relaxes a bit. His mum smooths down his hair and kisses his forehead and goes ambling away, still chattering on the phone frantically.  
  


It’s already noon, so Mr. James makes him a bit of toast and jam that Harry munches on while watching the other kids chase each other. Harry’s 6 years old now, and he’s excited to make new friends since he’s already made as many as he can at his primary.  
  


He quickly learns that he’s mistaken, though, and that he doesn’t like _anybody_ at this daycare. Harry’s the youngest, but he doesn’t think he acts like it; his big sister Gemma says he’s not a dumb baby, and Gemma only says things that she thinks are true, so it must be.  
  
  
None of the kids are outright mean to Harry, except for a tall 9-year-old boy named Brandon. He’s built like a tree trunk and has freckles, beady mole eyes, and a missing tooth that makes him look like a cartoon character. He seeks Harry out after the first two days, and Harry tries not to flounder under his mean gaze. The other kids around Harry’s age are just as scared of him, and he hears Penny say that both his parents are alphas, which is why he’s allowed to be in charge. He barely listens to Mr. James, who’s an adult beta; Brandon doesn’t respect him at all.  
  


“We’re going to play Alpha Beta Bitch,” Brandon announces one day, his meaty hands curled into fists. His smile sends a chill down Harry’s spine. He’s never played this game before, but he doesn’t like the sound of it so far, especially when some of Harry’s tentative friends keep glancing at each other nervously.  
  


“I’ve never played before,” Harry says, voice trembling a little.  
  


“Oh, it’s easy. You’ll see,” Brandon smirks at him, beady little eyes glinting. “Alpha, beta...bitch!” he yells, and suddenly everyone’s hands shoot up, except for Harry’s. He’s confused, his heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s, his eyes darting around to the other kids who seem relieved and scared for him at the same time. Brandon lets out a big laugh and stalks toward Harry. He grips his arm, his dirty nails digging into Harry’s skin, and then he shoves him. “You’re the bitch. You better start running.”

 

  
Harry turns and runs. They give him a few seconds’ head start, and then everyone starts chasing after him, howling and snarling like a wolfpack. There’s terror lodged in his throat, but he manages to dodge a clumsy move from Steven, who’s got glasses and big ears. He turns to look where Steven’s fallen and gets body slammed a second later, knocked down by Brandon’s heavy body. His chin hits the ground first, teeth clacking together, and then burning pain and grass in his mouth, his heart still going too fast. Brandon’s pinning him down, knees digging into his shoulder blades as Harry cries out, startled and in pain. He’s scared and humiliated as Brandon digs his knees in deeper and shouts out, “I’m the alpha!”  
  


Brandon finally lets up, dusting himself off, but Harry just lies there, shaking badly. He can’t see anything, and his chin hurts, as do his knees. He sniffles when he hears Katie coming up next to him. “Are you alright?” she asks, her voice sweet.

  
Harry doesn’t answer and stands up on his own, wiping his chin with his grass-stained hand, suddenly angry. But he doesn’t understand what happened or why, and that’s when he starts to cry, every pair of eyes on him as fat, hot tears roll down his cheeks.  
  


Brandon yanks hard at his sleeve, pulling Harry over to him. “Now you have to do whatever I say, ‘cause that’s what a bitch does...I want you to lick this,” Brandon orders, pulling off his shoe. All the other kids burst into laughter as Harry’s face glows red hot. He stares at the shoe, dangling by its tattered, brown shoelaces. Brandon yanks him closer by the scruff of his neck, and Harry wonders where Mr. James is and why he hasn’t stopped this yet.

 

  
“Oi,” another voice calls out from the distance, and all the kids shift to look, including Harry, at a lanky boy with spiky hair and a pointy face.  
  


“Louis!” Brandon shouts, gleeful. “You’re just in time,” he says, dropping the shoe and leaving Harry’s space to clap Louis on the back like they’re old friends. Brandon seems to have forgotten about the dare, so Harry shrinks back into the mix of kids.

  
“What are we playing, then?”  
  
  
“Alpha Beta Bitch,” Brandon grins as Louis takes a moment to survey the other children like he's overlooking his kingdom. His eyes catch Harry’s, and for some reason, it makes his stomach squirm. “We can start over, if you want,” Brandon offers, shoving his foot back into his shoe.  
  


Harry’s still shaken as he stares down at the dirt under his nails, at the copper red of his blood, so he doesn’t hear Brandon shout out, “Alpha, beta...bitch!” again until it’s too late.

  
  
  
Brandon laughs loudly because Harry’s the bitch again. He’s still out of breath from sobbing, but Harry starts a slow jog, pained because his scraped knees sting and his chin aches. His face is still sticky from crying--he can’t stop crying, really--as he lets out a sob, half-heartedly dodging a girl. It goes much quicker than the first round, and a pair of arms wrap around his waist as he gets pulled down.  
  


It doesn’t hurt this time because he’s yanked down onto his backside, but he’s tired and his scrapes actually ache now, so he gives up immediately.  
  


“Are you okay?” the person asks, and Harry turns to see that it’s the new boy. Louis gets off him immediately and sticks his hand down to help Harry up, but Harry hesitates, unsure if it’s a trick or not. Louis drops his hand and shrugs when Harry takes too long to decide, turning to the rest of the kids and letting out a snarling roar and a big wolf howl. The other kids giggle and join in, howling up at the sky.

  
“I’m the alpha,” Louis announces, raising his arms like a maestro. “And as alpha,” Louis starts, turning to nudge Harry him, who just stares back at him, terrified of what he’s going to have to do. “I don’t want to play this anymore...let’s play footie instead,” Louis finishes as Brandon scowls at him.

  
“He’s still got to do something for you. Make him do anything,” Brandon orders, a crazed look in his eye. Louis lifts his chin up at Brandon’s stare and shakes his head firmly.

  
Louis makes a face and turns back to Harry again, taking his chin in his hands carefully and moving his head gently so that he can look at the injury. “Go inside and find Mr. James. You’re bleeding,” he says and then heads over to grab the football, leaving Harry alone. Harry stares after him for a long time before turning on his heels to do as he’s told.

 

_\---_

 

_Six months before he meets Louis the second time_.

 

He’s woken up by a dark, crawling hunger in his belly that doesn’t stop. It claws its way through him, molten lava up his spine as he wakes up frozen in place, robbed of any thoughts except that he needs to _breed_ someone. His dick hurts, but Harry doesn’t want to look down at it. He knows it’s angry and enlarged at the base. His balls feel too heavy, it’s too much right now, his heart banging against his ribs.

  
  
He’s presented.

 

Harry lies in bed for a long time, his fingers gripping at his sheets. He can hear his mum downstairs, getting ready for work; Gemma’s still asleep, snoring gently. He can hear everything, the hum of cars driving by, someone showering down the street--it’s overwhelming and loud--blood is rushing through his ears, and he thinks his heart is going too fast. It’s going to burst. His mouth fills with saliva, and he can feel the sharpness of his canines digging into his lips as he tries to breathe evenly. He’s dizzy. A dog barks, and it echoes in his skull. He shuts his eyes and slowly inhales, exhales, and sits up, still ignoring his stiff, knotted cock.  
  


He shuffles to the door and creaks it open, and maybe it’s silly, but he wants to call his mum up so that she can make this go away, like a boogie monster. Instead, Harry pushes through and sneaks down to the bathroom. He puts the shower on the coldest setting and stands under it until he’s shivering, teeth clattering together. It doesn’t do anything to make his knot go down.  
  
  
Harry swallows, closes his eyes, and grips his cock, hissing at how sensitive it it. The fire’s already been stoked, and he feels consumed by gnawing need again. He strips his dick quickly, but it hurts more than it feels good. It’s not satisfying at all, and he comes too much, splattering all over the tile before it washes down the drain. It’s painful when the knot builds, stretching his skin so badly that it tears, and he pounds a fist against the wall to keep from screaming. Harry looks down at it for the first time, his cock straight up and angry-looking and unfamiliar, and he lets out a terrified sob, loud enough that his mum hears him.

  
  
“Harry?” she calls up the stairs, her voice like a shout in his ears.  
  


“I’m fine, mum,” he answers, voice wobbling.  
  


It takes him three times to feel normal again, his cock finally flagging.  
  


His mum’s right outside the door when he steps out, shivering from how cold the water had gone. The look she gives him is the worst part, like she knows--knows things that he can’t even say out loud yet. She wraps him up in her arms, and he digs his nose into her skin, inhaling her deeply comforting scent, feeling like he’s 10 again.  
  
  
“Come downstairs and have a cuppa,” she shushes him, smoothing her hand through his wet locks. “It’s alright,” she whispers, and she keeps whispering it until he starts to believe her.

 

—————

_Harry with Louis last week_

 

He’s snuggled up against Louis, awake early as usual, but too lazy to go through his morning routine. He’s too warm, and outside of their (well, Louis’) bed, it’s getting colder the closer they get to November. Harry pushes his nose into the crook of Louis’ neck, smelling him, his scent thick and palpable. It’s almost too strong with his rut nearing, and Harry’s body tenses every time he does this, but he just pushes his nose further into Louis neck defiantly, challenging his warring body. _Fuck you, you don’t tell me what to do. You don’t get to tell me who I like_ , he thinks irrationally.  
  
  
Louis snuffles in his sleep; sometimes he’ll drool, and it mattes Harry’s curls, but he couldn’t be happier. Harry believes in soulmates, beyond just mates, and he knows that Louis is it. _This_ is it. His heart is overflowing just knowing that he doesn’t want anyone else, that no one else will get him quite as deeply as Louis does.  
  
  
He knows it might be a bit silly, but that afternoon at daycare stuck with him. After that moment, Harry followed him around tirelessly, knowing that Louis was older but safe, unlike Brandon. After he and his family moved, he sort of forgot about Louis, but he thinks he was his first real crush, at 6 years old. What are the odds they would even meet again after so long? It has to mean something, right?  
  
  
Harry gets up first, even though he doesn’t want to, and when he pulls away from Louis' arms, Louis curls in on himself, a frown etching his brows. Harry smiles and leans down to kiss him softly on the chin.

 

He goes back to his room to change and take time to stare himself down in his mirror. His tan’s starting to fade into something more pleasant. The summer before school started was spent swimming way too much and partying way too hard, trying to mold himself into an alpha, trying to ignore the whatever it is with him that’s going on now. Harry sighs, pressing his fingers into a hickey Louis left on his arm, of all places, smiling at his reflection.  
  


Harry gets breakfast started because cooking has always been something he did with his mum, and now it’s just a comfort. By the time he’s waiting on the pancakes to cook through, Louis has stepped down the last stair step, and Harry greets him with a slow, soft smile. Louis looks rumpled and barely awake; he’s got his jumper sleeve pulled down over his fist, and he keeps yawning, but he gives Harry the sleepiest smile, and it flutters every butterfly in his tummy.  
  


“Morning,” Harry says, his voice low as Louis steps up to him, hand settling at his waist, and Harry melts against him, heart thumping loudly against his ribs.  
  


“Morning,” Louis rasps back, giving him a sweet kiss to the temple that he doesn’t deserve. He feels so lucky. Louis' got a thick line of stubble that he rubs against Harry’s cheek as he pulls away, and Harry shivers, swallowing. He’s been in a constant state of arousal ever since they started their relationship. They haven’t used the “boyfriend” word yet even though it feels deeper than that; Harry’s nervous. He’s never had one before, and he’s tried needling information out of Louis about his past relationships, but he usually gets distracted. Like now.  
  


Harry drops to his knees, tugging Louis' trackies down with a sigh. His cock’s not fully hard yet, but Harry doesn’t mind. Louis groans anyway, his hands grappling in Harry’s hair to anchor himself. Niall could walk in at any moment, really, but Harry doesn’t care.  
  
  
He takes his time, nudges his face against Louis’ thighs, then nudges his nose against the cotton briefs over Louis' bulge. He tastes him that way first, tongue brushing against the fabric in a slow stroke, moaning- smelling the musky scent of Louis, all woods and sea salt. It makes his instincts want to kick in. This is wrong, but it isn’t. There isn’t anywhere else in the world he wants to be more than on his knees for Louis. Absently, he thinks that he’d start to get wet for Louis right about now, if he were an omega. Louis would be able to smell how much he turns him on.  
  


“You’re going to burn the pancakes, Harry,” Louis snickers, amused, tugging fondly at his curls. Harry flutters his lashes, smile dimpling when he sucks at the shape of Louis cockhead again as Louis moans, hips shifting.  
  
  
He peels the fabric down and lets his mouth fall open when Louis' cock bobs out, thick and a little curved, the nicest cock he’s ever seen, so perfect for his mouth. Harry swallows first, mouth watering too much, and kisses at his crown. Louis groans and bucks up against him, his head thrown back, like it’s too much already.  
  
  
Harry’s eyes slip closed and he says his thanks before sucking Louis down, letting his cock slide down his throat easily, stretching him out. He loves this, the feeling of being used, Louis’ choked-out noises, the feeling that they live in a bubble. Harry slides back up, tongue pressing firmly at the vein and underside of Louis' cock; he can feel the knot starting to form at the base, and he mouth at it, shivering at the thought of having it in his throat.  
  


His knees ache against the cold tile, but he pushes on, taking Louis down again, swallowing around him, breathing through the slow panic creeping up his spine. _Breathe through your nose_ , he thinks, moving with Louis when he shifts his hips minisculely. Harry bobs up and off, throat getting achy. He’s panting, pressing his bruised lips against the shaft, tasting Louis' precum.  
  
  
Harry feels like he’s floating a little bit, like he’s becoming one with Louis, who fists harder into his hair, forcing him to moan, his lashes to flutter as he finally opens his eyes to look up at Louis. There’s stubble littering his throat and chin, and Harry takes in his sharpness all the way to his collarbones, then to his perfectly sculpted arms. Louis looks down, his eyes hardening with cool fire, and it makes Harry whimper when he presses his palm against Harry’s cheek and runs his thumb along the seam of Harry’s lips.  
  
  
“Beautiful,” Louis says, voice air-light. Harry warms with the compliment, nuzzling into Louis' palm contentedly.  
  


The pancakes are definitely burnt, but Louis keeps his palm on Harry’s face as he turns around to turn off the hob. “Come up here, love,” Louis says, and Harry dazedly pouts because he wants to get Louis off with his mouth. He doesn’t quite let go of Louis yet, fist curled around his half-formed knot. “Niall’s gonna be up any minute now,” Louis reminds him, snorting a little.  
  


“Am already up, ya cunts!” Niall shouts from his room, which is unfortunately right next to the kitchen. Harry giggles, coming off his knees, and it turns into full-on honking laughter as Louis joins in, his laugh like a crack in the air, loud and right in his ear. Harry grins harder when Louis wraps his arms around him, pressing his big smile against Harry’s neck. He’s still hard, and Louis' cock is still out, but he feels light for the first time in a long, long time.  
  


“It’s just payback, mate!” Louis shouts in the direction of Niall’s room before smacking kisses to Harry’s cheek.   
  
  
“C’mon, Lou. Wanna finish you off,” Harry says, still hissing out a laugh like a tire going out.  
  


“Patience,” Louis chides. Patience? Harry doesn’t have a single ounce of it when it comes to Louis. “Why don’t you finish making me pancakes, baby? M’starving,” Louis says as he steps away and tucks himself back into his pants like his cock isn’t dripping. Harry licks his lips slowly, eyes widening as Louis smirks. His cheeks heat while he swallows because it feels like Louis can see right through him sometimes, can read his thoughts.  
  
  
“O...kay,” Harry says, not arguing even though Louis looks like he wants to take him apart piece by piece. It’s ridiculous that they’re both still hard, and Harry’s making pancakes like nothing happened.  
  


Louis ends up taking a phone call from his mum anyway, his side of the conversation animated as Harry plates their food and grabs glasses for juice and milk. Harry tries not to listen, his ears prickling when he hears her sweet laughter. He wants to meet her, as Louis' boyfriend.  
  


Harry chews thoughtfully on his pancakes, watching Louis a little too intensely as he takes a bite of his food, internally preening when he hums in approval and sends a wink over to Harry. “I’ve got to go, mum, Harry’s made me brekkie,” he says, sounding very pleased by it. She says something that Harry can’t hear, and Louis laughs again, smiling. “Yes, he is.”  
  


He turns to Harry to repeat it, “She says you’re taking care of me.” Harry turns red from head to toe, his heart flooding with warmth. He’s _taking care_ of Louis, the best, sweetest words he’s ever heard. Harry really wants to finish him off now, sliding down his chair to his knees and banging his head in his eagerness to get to Louis.  
  
  
  
“ _Haz,"_ Louis hisses, looking surprised when Harry pushes his knees apart, peeking up at him.  
  
  
“I’m taking care of you, Lou,” he insists, yanking his trackies down again. This time, he goes tongue first, lapping at the underside, feeling the vein of his cock with his tongue and moaning. Louis' hips hitch up as he lets out a strangled, “ _Oh, god.”_ And then a, “Nnnng-othing, mum. I’ve just forgotten…what? What did you say?”  
  
  
Harry sucks him down deep, nestling his nose into Louis' pubes again, and hums. He smells like alpha, and this time it makes Harry’s cock twitch heavily. He wants to be wet. He’d be dripping now, all over their kitchen floor, and afterward, he’d clean it up with his mouth and be — his thoughts shift abruptly as Louis says something he can’t hear, shifting the phone from one hand to the other to slide his dominant hand into Harry’s hair and tug. Harry moans again and pulls off, jacking Louis off with intent. His eyes feel droopy and half-lidded, like he’s drugged; he keeps his gaze on Louis' face, watching him. Harry sucks him down again, bobbing up and down steadily now, trying to keep quiet, even though he wants to moan and rut into his own hand, which has somehow snuck its way treacherously to his groin.  
  
  
“Close,” Louis mouths to him, shutting his eyes, lips opening in another silent moan. Harry tightens his grip at the base, feeling the swell of his knot here, how it’s hardening. He pushes himself, gagging so much when he tries to get it down, get his lips stretched over it. His brow furrows, and he’s swallowing over and over again.

  
“Yeah, okay, mum. I love you too...oh, god. No, nothing, Harry’s just kicked me under the table because he wants me to eat. Okay, yeah...bye,” he mutters and hangs up, tossing the phone on the table like it burnt his hand. He drags Harry back to him, fucking his hips up, brutal and quick, like he’s using Harry to get off. “Oh, fuck, Harry. Oh, god, baby, you can’t just...I was on the phone with me _mum_ ,” Louis babbles, breathy and desperate.  
  
  
“I’m so close, baby. You’re gonna make me come with that filthy mouth of yours. You want it, don’t you? Fucking desperate for my come? For your alpha’s knot?” Louis hisses out, and Harry’s eyes go wide. He’s rutting into his hand and choking on Louis' cock because he’s fucking his mouth so hard now, filling him up, making him take it. Louis yanks him roughly onto his cock one more time, hips lifting off as he buries into Harry’s throat, coming with a long, loud satisfied moan.  
  
  
Harry swallows desperately around his cock, taking as much of his cum as possible. His cheeks hurting from how stretched out he feels as he carefully pulls back; the knot’s not quite at his throat, pulling his own dick off weakly, his hips bucking.  
  
  
“Come on, love, that’s it, get yourself off, want you to get yourself all wet for me,” Louis encourages, filthily, his hand at Harry’s throat. Harry moans and tilts his neck up, showing him how good he is, how he’s submitting to him, and Louis' breath catches. Harry comes like that, chin tilted up, lips still pressed against Louis' knotted cock as he shoots off all over the floor and his hands with a sob.  
  
  
“Oh, god, you’re shaking. Come here, baby,” Louis says, awed. He knows how much Harry loves to cuddle after, how he feels like a helium balloon and touching Louis helps him stay grounded and safe. Harry’s legs are shaking when he stands up and piles himself onto Louis' lap, shifting so that he’s not putting too much pressure on Louis' cock.  
  
  
_I love you_ , Harry thinks, burying his face into Louis' shoulders, curling up against him like a cat.

 

\------

  
_Harry with Louis 3 days ago_

 

He’s sure that his neck is bruised peach and purple, but Harry’s helpless to do anything but moan out again when Louis bites him under his jaw, lapping and sucking on his skin until Harry feels delirious. Louis' the best weight on top of him, and he moans happily again when Louis drags his canines across the tendon in his neck. He sinks further into the couch, letting Louis do whatever he wants to him. Harry’s fingers curl into Louis’ shirt, and he blinks up at him, bashful when Louis gives him this _look_ that he can’t quite decipher.  
  
  
  
“What is it?” Harry asks, voice shy.  


“Nothing,” Louis says, his lips quirking up. “I’m just happy that you’re letting me do this.”  
  
  
Harry tilts his chin, eyebrows raising slightly. “What do you mean? I love it when you...” _do anything to me, pin me down, make me take it_ “...kiss me like this.”  
  
  
Louis laughs a little, nudging his nose once against Harry’s, kissing him sweetly after.  


“I know, baby. But it’s just that...we were both so worried about the alpha stuff. Hasn’t been a problem, has it?” he asks, nudging his nose against Harry’s neck again. He sounds so proud. Sometimes Harry struggles to keep his body in check, but Louis has impeccable control, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him flinch even once when they touch.  


Harry smiles at him and shrugs, sighing when Louis presses butterfly kisses to his jaw. “I think we’re different. We’re special.”  
  
  
“Is that so?” Louis counters, laughing. He’s still smiling, but he looks a touch more serious when he continues, “Can I ask you something? It’s a two-parter, really.”  
  
  
“Of course you can,” Harry answers, his fingers scratching up Louis’ back.  
  
  
“First, can I ride you? Been thinking about it for a while, babe,” Louis says, voice low and simmering like he gets when he’s about to get what he wants; when he takes control and has Harry helpless under his touch. “How good you’d feel in me.”  
  
  
“Yes,” Harry tells him, breathlessly. God, imagine Louis _riding him_ with that arse.  
  
  
“Good,” Louis chuckles. “Didn’t think you’d complain about that one. And second, my rut’s coming up. I can feel it. Do you…want to be here for it?”  
  
  
“Yes, Lou. Of course, I’d love to,” Harry rushes out. He can’t believe he’s even being asked. He’s being _entrusted_ with it, and that’s more special than anything in the world. He wants to be there for Louis, just like Louis was there for him during his rut.  
  
  
“Good,” Louis says again, relieved this time.

\--

 

Harry feels surrounded by Louis.

 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Louis moans out, the bed creaking underneath them.  


Harry’s hands are fitted loosely on his waist, and he’s staring up at Louis, enraptured. There’s a glow behind Louis from the hallway light, and the bed creaks again when he fucks down, another breathy, hitched moan hissing from his lips.  
 

“God, you feel so fucking good in me. So fucking _big_ ,” Louis’ eyes flutter shut, and Harry whines in return, leaning forward to nibble helplessly at Louis’ collarbone. Harry doesn’t want to come too soon, but he’s never told Louis that he’s _never been in_ someone before. There are a lot of firsts with Louis, and every single one of them feels special.  


Louis licks his lips and leans back, grinning devilishly at Harry, like _he’s_ the one doing the fucking. Louis lifts off and sinks down, slow slow slow, and Harry gasps. His body is a long stretch, his abs softening down to the flat of his belly when he holds himself out for display like this.  


“Lou...m’gonna come,” Harry mumbles, his thumbs pressing frantically at his hip.  


“Did I say you could?” Louis asks sharply, but almost lazily, like he’s playing with Harry.  


“N-no.”  


“I’m not quite finished yet...wanna enjoy your cock a bit longer, so hold it,” Louis tells him, his smile dropping this time, eyes dark. Louis sits up and lifts off, and Harry’s heart jitters because he’s worried that he’s done something wrong. But Louis just flips around, throwing a smug look over his shoulder as he grips Harry’s cock at the base, jacking him up and down, particularly focused on the hard base and the suggestion of his knot starting to form.

 

“Do you want it, Harry?”  


“Yes.”  


“Do you want me?”  


“Yes, Louis...god, always. You’re driving me mad,” Harry whines, reaching out for him, cupping Louis’ perfect bum and grinding up, rubbing his cockhead greedily against him. His mouth fills with saliva when Louis thrusts his hips back with a move that makes his arse jiggle. Louis lets out a cackle, eyes crinkling up. He spreads himself, letting Harry watch the wetness of their lube and the slick of Harry’s precum glisten on his hole.  
 

“Go on, then,” he smirks, lining himself up but holding there. Harry fucks up, groaning out, his thighs tensing so much that he’s shaking. Louis sighs out, hips twitching as he swivels around, grinding back and forth, his moans punching out again, using Harry to get off, each stroke perfect against his prostate.  


“Dick’s so big, baby. Filling me up so much. Stretching me so much...Harry, fuck. Want you to knot me,” Louis babbles, his voice finally, finally wobbling. Harry grips his hips harder and fucks up, eyes glued to the jiggle of Louis’ cheeks with every bounce.  


“Are you sure?” Harry asks, thumbing at his hole, the pink, stretched rim.  


“Yeah, c’mon, wanna feel you until tomorrow, babe. Give it to me, Harry, come on,” he growls, twisting his body to watch Harry with his heavy gaze.  


Harry swallows and nods, wishing he could kiss Louis. This position’s not great for that, but Louis seems to read him and leans all the way back until they’re chest to back. He huffs his hissy laugh and turns his head, stilling in Harry’s lap so that they can snog dirtily. “M’ready.”  


Harry nods and kisses his jaw, hips moving, humping into Louis’ tight arse. His knot starts to swell, and Harry groans out, almost a miserable sound because it always hurts a little, and Louis is _so tight_ around him already, he doesn’t know how he’s going to fit. His mind is scattered, and he thinks briefly about how he wishes he had a plug in him, so that he could feel full, too, at the same time as Louis.  


Louis cries out and fucks down one more time, shooting messily all over Harry’s thighs, his hole becoming a vice as he clenches down; he came without even touching himself, Harry thinks drunkenly. Harry moans, hips stuttering as he comes, his knot expanding until it catches on Louis’ rim. Louis' fingernails dig painfully into Harry’s forearms where he’s holding himself, and he lets out a string of curses. It’s hard to concentrate on anything when they’re tied together, his knot snug in his bum.  
  


“You alright, Lou?” Harry asks, tongue heavy in his mouth.  


“Y-yes. Shit. Just...haven’t done that before,” Louis laughs. Harry’s eyes go wide, and Louis turns again to peek at him, a soft smile on his lips.  


“Really?” Harry asks in complete awe. He can’t stop blinking, and he’s sure that his mouth’s just open like a fish.  


“Yeah, really. Hurts a little bit but in a good way,” Louis explains, and Harry worries for a bit until Louis swoops in with a sweet kiss. “Feels incredible...m’so full of you,” Louis rasps out.

  
“You feel amazing, too, Lou,” he whimpers, eyes closing because it's heavenly. It’s overwhelming, being tied to Louis. It’s the most intimate feeling when Louis leans back and sighs. Knotting used to be a _mate_ thing, and it makes Harry desperately want to be mated with Louis, to have that deep bond he reads about in romance novels.  


“Know this is a bit of a bad time to ask, but do you want to meet me mum this weekend?” Louis asks, amused at himself. It breaks Harry out of his thoughts.  


“Still need to work on your timing,” Harry tries to deadpan, even though his heart is beating out of his chest.  


“So is that a yes?” Louis turns with a quizzical brow.  


“Yes...yes, course I do. I’ve been wanting to meet your mum for ages. And Lottie, too. And Fizzy and the twins-,” Harry starts, speaking faster than he’s ever done before. Louis laughs and finds his hand to lace them together.  
  
  
“Not sure who will be home, but yeah. Would love that. They’re gonna love you so much.”  
  
  
“Should I bring anything?”  
  
  
“Just an appetite. Mum’ll try and feed you a full Sunday roast every night we’re there. I promise you, she’s a good cook, but we might have to escape to my favourite chippy place. Oh, and you’ll have to meet my friends from secondary, too. They’re all wankers, but I still love them.”  
  
  
“Okay. I've gotta get her flowers, at least. What's her favourite kind?” Harry absolutely beams. “And this is happening. With me. As your _boyfriend_ , right?” he slips in, not so subtly. Louis cackles, which makes him clench around Harry because they’re still _knotted_ together.  


“Think she likes lillies best, and, well, _yes_ . I’ve been referring to you as me boyfriend to everyone back home. Be a bit weird if I introduced you as my friend.”  
  
  
“ _You have_ ? Why didn’t you ever…you never asked me to be your boyfriend.”  
  
  
“Oh. I just… don’t know, really. Didn’t think I had to? I’m sorry, babe, I guess I should have. In case you didn’t want to be…,” Louis mumbles quietly, gone a bit pink in the cheeks.  
  
  
“No, it’s not that. I was just waiting,” Harry bites his lip a little sheepishly.

  
“I guess I knew that. I just thought that calling you boyfriend out loud might have scared you off.”  


“You’ll never scare me off, Louis Tomlinson,” he whispers fiercely between pecks.  
  
 

His cock’s flagged down enough that Louis can wiggle off, which he does as Harry arches up, biting back a moan, and Louis lets out a moan of his own as he lifts himself up. Harry can feel his cum dripping _out_ of Louis’ hole, and he misses his warmth immediately; Louis rolls over to face him, and Harry decides that he’d much rather be able to see Louis’ sweaty, pink-cheeked face.  


Louis sits back, cross-legged, their knees bumping into each other, and Harry scrambles forward to kiss him, their fingers tangling together. “When you say my name like that, makes it seem like I’m in trouble,” Louis smiles and laughs between kisses; his eyes crinkling up so much that Harry can’t resist thumbing at each crease. He’s so very handsome.

  
“You’d only be in trouble if I said your middle name, too. What is it, by the way?”  
  
  
“William,” Louis tells him, grimacing. “Not very original.”  
  
  
“Mine’s Edward, so it’s not any better.”  


“God, we’re so British,” Louis teases, petting lovingly at Harry’s chubby hips.  
  
  
“I know,” Harry laughs.  


“Anyway, off track,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “Harold? Hazza, will you be my boyfriend? This is me, asking you officially, even though I think we were pretty official before this.”  
  
  
“I think we were, too, but it’s about the _romance_ , innit.”  
  
  
“Right, I skipped _too_ much of the romance,” Louis sighs dramatically, tossing his hands up in the air. He’s very theatrical, which Harry loves.  
  
  
“You didn’t!” Harry giggles, absolutely fucking giddy. He’s got a swirl of butterflies in his stomach, just being here with Louis, all floating together in synchronicity.  


“Be my boyfriend, then! You didn’t say yes or no!”  
  
  
“Obviously, it’s a yes.”  
  
  
“Oh, ob-versh-ly,” Louis repeats, mimicking Harry’s drawled-out syllables. It makes Harry crack another smile, cheeks heating up because only Louis could tease him so lovingly.  
  
  
“Can’t wait to say ‘he’s my boyfriend’ to me mum,” Louis says, and Harry winces, just slightly, the back of his throat prickling uncomfortably.  


He.... _he_ feels _heavy_ , like stones are being cast into his body, plunking to the bottom of his soles, weighing him down. There’s nothing to soften the word ‘he’ between his lips. Louis doesn’t seem to notice, though, his eyes still crinkled.   
 

“Can I…talk to you about something...something that I’ve never told anyone else?” Harry asks, voice small and unsure. His stomach drops all the way down to his knees, and he very nearly regrets saying it at all.  


“Yeah, of course, yeah. You can tell me anything,” Louis assures him, brows pinched together in concern. Harry inhales shakily, eyes watching the tiny flecks of green in Louis’ eyes. Sometimes it looks like they’re floating in an ocean of blue, gently rocked in waves.  
  
  
“I’m not just...I don’t know how to-,” Harry starts off, and it feels like drowning. _He won’t get it. He won’t want you,_ creeps up Harry’s throat.  
  
  
“Harry?” Louis prods, his hand rubbing up and down Harry’s arm, patiently waiting.  
  
  
“I don’t know if...I’m a boy. I mean...I am. But I’m not. I don’t know,” Harry chokes out.  
  
  
“Oh,” Louis says, eyebrows flying up, clearly confused.  
  
  
“Like when you said ‘ _he’s_ my boyfriend,’ I don’t...that’s okay, I just didn’t like it. The ‘he’ part,” Harry stutters, sweeping his hands through his hair nervously, and Louis catches his hand midair, to squeezes his fingers. Harry tries reading his expression for disgust, but Louis just looks a little confused, like he’s processing what Harry’s said.  
  
  
“Is this also…a part of the omega thing? I’ve been reading up on it. Lots of people feel like they aren’t supposed to be what they present as.” Harry’s eyes widen at his words because he didn’t know Louis had done that, and his heart flutters funnily. “I didn’t know you looked anything up,” Harry whispers, and Louis’ smile softens.  
  
  
“Hope that’s alright. I just wanted to try and understand it a little better. I know you like it when we use the synthetic slick and when we focus away from your cock, yeah?” Louis pets at his stomach, and Harry squirms because he’s ticklish. Harry loves him _so_ much.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry agrees, breathily. “But I think that’s mostly…because if I were an omega, it’d be easier. For us to...and it’d turn you on so much.”  
 

“Babe, you already turn me on.”

 

Harry shrugs a few times, trying to muddle through the feeling he gets. It isn’t the same thing—the pronouns and his dysphoria with being an alpha—but maybe they’re related, in a way. Harry feeling too big for this body, like his soul can’t settle down with one label, one word.  
 

“I haven’t really…thought about it. I’m okay with ‘he’ for the most part, but sometimes it feels heavy,” he confesses, pressing his hand firmly on top of where Louis’ hand is still resting on Harry’s tummy. “Feels heavy here.”

  
Louis glances down, a furrow of concentration knit at his brow.

  
“It doesn’t feel wrong to have a cock,” Harry explains, “I mean, I was fine with it before I presented. I like my cock.”  
  
  
“It’s a good one,” Louis agrees, pressing firmly against Harry’s tummy.  
  
  
Harry laughs. “I think it’s just because...when you’re an alpha, you’re expected to be this and that, and I’m not any of those things. I tried so hard for a while, living up to what an Alpha is, capital A. I don’t want to take care of anyone the way alphas are supposed to.”  
  
  
“I think I get it. Most people don’t think I’m an alpha when they first meet me because I’m small,” Louis shrugs. “Never really thought about it much. S’pose I just woke up and presented, and now I’m here. Anybody who doesn’t think I’m me can fuck off,” Louis says, grinning dazzingly. Harry wishes he could be half as confident.  
  
  
“What do you want me to use for pronouns, then?”   
  
  
“I guess…not she either. I mean, that’s a little better, but I don’t think of myself as a girl? I just like girly things sometimes, like, it makes me feel pretty...just think it’s...that I’m a little bit of both. And a little bit of neither. Like an in between.”  
  
  
“You’re just Harry,” Louis says.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry says, still wide-eyed. “I’m just me,” he breathes out, feeling his throat and nose starting to tingle. Louis holds his face, seeming to sense Harry’s impending tears. He kisses his nose so gently, and Harry smiles, big and bright.  
  
  
“That’s easy enough, then. We’ll figure that one out, so f’now, ‘boyfriend’ is a go...the ‘he’ part is on hold for research.”  
  
  
It goes quiet again, and Louis spiders his fingers down Harry’s arm, a trail of goosebumps blooming. Harry rests his head on Louis’ chest, curling up small against him, and picks through the hairs on his chest. Harry's untouchable in Louis’ arms. He closes his eyes, fighting back a yawn.

 

“Since you told me a secret, I’ll tell you one. I’m scared of drowning.”  
  
  
“Really?”  
  
  
“Yeah. Deathly. Took swimming lessons for ages, but being in the deep end unnerves me...there’s nothing to catch you down there. I’d have a huge strop any time I knew mum was dropping me off at the pool, and the instructor always made me ‘face my fear’ by tossing me head-first into the deep end while I screamed the whole time.”  
  
  
“Well, that’s not very nice of him.”  
  
  
“No, it wasn’t. I’d always get up to the surface somehow, maybe my feet just kept kicking because I was so fucking terrified...the whole fight or flight. My lungs would fill with water, and I would just cough so much afterward. That instructor was a dick, and I’m realizing now that he was just a teenager, teaching a bunch of children to swim, but god I hated it.”

“I’m glad you told me that,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ fingers.  
  
  
“I am, too. Dunno...have a hard time admitting to that stuff,” he smiles wryly. “But with you, I want to tell you everything.”  


“Good,” Harry smiles back softly, pressing his mouth to Louis’. He feels like he’s floating, and it’s just the two of them.

 

\------

 

_One day ago_

 

The light of the telly flickers in front of his closed eyes. Harry’s nodding in and out of sleep, Louis’ fingers gently twisting his hair.  
  
  
They’d traveled all day, gotten in at tea time; it’s been a whirlwind of meeting all of Louis’ siblings and Johannah, especially, who has been more than lovely and welcoming to Harry. He’d been nervous for no reason, really. Every single person in Louis’ family is just inexplicably _good_ , and he’s so immensely comforted to know that Louis doesn’t fall far from the tree.  
  
  
Johannah and he had spoken quietly while he helped her clean up after they ate. And she’d even said, “Louis is different around you. Calmer. He’s stubborn as a mule, but he listens to you.”  


Then they’d all shuffled around the living room coffee table to play an intense game of Pictionary. Well, intense to Harry because he’s been desperately trying not to let Louis know that he’s _stupidly_ competitive, and board games have been banned from his own family game nights after Harry brazenly _ate a Scrabble piece_ to win. Pictionary is the one game that Harry’s the worst at because he can’t draw to save his life. He’d gotten increasingly more frustrated throughout the game, trying to keep his shouting down to a minimum, but Louis, of course, noticed immediately and decided to torture him with knowing smirks for the rest of the night. He’d purposefully started to guess wrong to piss Harry off; make Harry squirm, hot, angry, and aroused all at once.

  
Louis shifts forward, and Harry’s head jostles in his lap. “Sorry, love,” Louis whispers when Harry snuggles in closer, pressing his nose into the edge of Louis’ jumper.  
  
  
“S’okay.”  
  
  
“You alright?”  
  
  
“M’perfect,” Harry answers, voice sleepy and content. “I had so much fun today. Even if you’re terrible and mean to me during board games.”  
  
  
“Or maybe you’re just a sore loser,” Louis teases.  
  
  
“No, I think what I said was right.”  
  
  
“Just proved m’point, didn’t you?”  


Harry grumbles and flicks his nose. “Mean.”  
  
  
Louis smiles down at him and pecks his forehead as Harry smiles, sleepily, turning his face toward him. Louis’ scent is so, so strong, but Harry’s glad that his body’s too exhausted to react to it.  
  
  
“You okay?” Harry asks, reaching up to brush his fingers through his beard, feeling the prickle of it tickle the pads of his fingers. “Rut, I mean.”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis inhales, clearing his throat, and Harry frowns slightly because he doesn’t _sound_ like he’s fine.  


“How many days out?”  
  
  
“Monday, so we can be home for it.”  
  
  
“Okay,” Harry says, finding Louis’ hand so that he can turn the back of it to his lips, smiling against Louis’ soft knuckles. He’s excited about the rut, more than he should be. He just wants to give Louis the same kind of comfort that Harry had during his rut, wants to be able to repay him back tenfold. “It’s gonna be so good, Lou,” Harry promises, eyes drooping again.  
  
  
“Go to sleep, Haz. You’re practically asleep now, silly.”  
  
  
“Okay. Love you, Lou,” he murmurs before falling into unconsciousness.

  
\----------------------

 

_A few hours ago_

 

Louis grips the steering wheel too hard again and changes lanes aggressively. Harry can tell that he’s agitated, more so than usual, and he can especially _smell_ it, which is putting the both of them on edge.  
  
  
“Do you need me to drive? We’ve still got two hours,” Harry offers, voice calm and even. This is the third time that he’s asked in thirty-minute intervals because Louis had firmly denied him the first two times, and Harry’s losing his patience.  
  
  
“No, m’fine, Harry. Stop asking me,” Louis says lowly, clicking his tongue again when someone slowly merges in front of him to bypass a sluggish lorry. Harry grips his seat, heart skipping again, glancing down at Louis’ forearms, which are vibrating with tension.  


“Will you just… let me drive! You’ve nearly hit that bumper!”

  
“But I didn’t, did I?”  
  
  
“Louis, you’re going to get us killed. Let me drive,” Harry grits out. Louis glances over at him, eyes narrowing, and huffs out an annoyed, “Fine.”

 

It doesn’t feel like a victory when Louis pulls off to the side and they both get out at the same time. Harry climbs back in and adjusts his seat, Louis taking his time getting back in. Harry tries to see what he’s doing in the rearview mirror; it looks like he’s on the phone, but then he slides back in, stinking of cigarette smoke. “Did you just _smoke_ ? I thought you said you quit.”  
  
  
“Yeah, well I needed one.”  
  
  
“You don’t need one,” Harry hisses.  


“God, can’t do anything right today, can I? I’m letting you drive, so will you lay off?”  


Harry stares at him, a deep sting of hurt slashing through him. It feels like he’s just gotten slapped in the face, so he screws his jaw tight, going thin-lipped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening to the point of white knuckles. He knows that he’s scary when he’s angry. Louis looks and smells guilty immediately and opens his mouth to apologize, but Harry cuts him off.  
  
  
“I’m going to get a hotel,” Harry says, calmly.  
  
  
“What?” Louis spits out, incredulous. “What for? We’re nearly home, it’s only an hour! It’d be a waste.”  
  
  
“Because, you’re being a _fucking_ **_arsehole_ ** _,_ probably because you’re too close to rut and we’re stuck in this car together. A heat hotel will be best for tonight. That’s my decision, and you can’t change my mind.”  
  
  
Harry fixes his mobile to the holder and quickly googles the nearest heat hotel. It’s only an 8-minute drive, but it feels like it takes ages, and he can feel the roiling storm of Louis in the passenger seat, broody and even more agitated with him.  


So much for getting Louis through rut smoothly.

 

\---

 

“Room 432. Nonsmoking,” the receptionist says. Harry gives her a dazzling, fake smile and takes the keycards away from her, ignoring the way that she keeps glancing between the both of them after parsing out that they’re both alphas.

  
Louis’ hands are stuffed into his sweatpants, and he looks sheepish and dejected. “Come on, Lou,” Harry says with a sigh, sweeping his hair back with his sunglasses.  
  
  
They move silently to the lift, and that’s when Louis finally says, “I’m sorry for being a dick.”  


Harry’s lip twitches just slightly.  
  
  
“You were right,” Louis admits. Harry glances over to his mouth, which is twisting to the side like he’s having a hard time confessing it.  


“It wouldn’t have been safe to keep driving. I feel...so off-balance right now. I didn’t mean to snap at you, m’sorry,” he says again. Harry exhales gently, turning his whole body to face him. The lift doors ping open, and Louis starts to step in, but Harry stops him with a hand on his chest.  
  
  
“I’m not mad, Lou, I’m _worried_.”  
  
  
“Don’t mean to make you worry,” Louis says, placing his fingers on top of Harry’s, making Harry soften, ever so slightly.  
  
  
“Do you think you’ll be okay? With me being there for your rut?”  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah, of course I will...want you there,” Louis says almost defiantly, voice scratchy and straining. Harry nods at him after a long pause, and they step over the threshold together. The room is nice and tidy. Plain, no frills, and there’s a steady supply of filtered air pumping into the room. This is already much better than the car, and Harry relaxes, collapsing onto the bed, belly down. He closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of bleached sheets.  


“Going to shower,” Louis announces.  
  
  
Harry hears the ensuite door click behind him, and his stomach rolls. Things between them feel…weird right now. It’s never been like this before, even during Harry’s entire rut. For a moment, Harry worries that it’s because of him. _You’re too clingy and annoying. Your gender shit is too much. He’s gotten tired of you,_ Harry thinks. He knows it’s irrational, but it makes him curl in on himself and squeeze his eyes shut even tighter. He can hear Louis’ heartbeat, if he concentrates hard enough, filtering out the sound of the shower, so he focuses in on it, lets his own heartbeat catch up.  
  
  
Louis comes out eventually, wrapped only in a towel. He looks smaller when his hair’s wet, and Harry watches him silently, one eye peeked open as Louis comes over and kneels next to him. Harry’s breath hitches involuntarily when Louis’ fingers comb through his hair.  
  
  
“Hi,” Harry says first.  
  
  
“Hi,” Louis says back. He seems more like Louis right now, which is nice. Harry reaches out toward him, still inexplicably upset. Their fingers tangle.  
  
  
“Are you upset at me?”  


“No. Why would you think that?” Louis asks, pressing in closer so that he can plant a kiss to the shell of Harry’s ear. His breath ruffles Harry’s curls, and Harry licks his lips. They’ve just had their first fight, so of course Harry’s worried. But he isn’t sure how to explain the other doubts bubbling up, so instead, he shakes his head.  
  
  
“Nevermind...if you say so,” Harry sighs and rolls onto his back.  
  
  
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Louis says after a pause, taking a seat on the bed. He doesn’t smell like himself, just neutral from soap, and Harry turns his head, pressing his nose against Louis’ thigh. He reaches out to pull at one of the long pube hairs there while Louis pets his hair.  
  
  
Harry lets out a shaky breath and sits up, pulling his shirt off in one go.

 

\--

 

The pressure of the shower head is weak, but the water’s hot, so Harry lets it scald over his skin and wash off their fight. He doesn’t know if he should be here, if it’s a good idea to help Louis through his rut, even though he wants to.  
 

  
Harry emerges from the ensuite after carefully drying himself off completely and doesn’t bother with pulling on pants. He slides carefully on top of the bed, over the duvet on his knees, his hands settling in his lap. He isn’t sure if it’s okay to kiss Louis yet, to have everything go back to normal. His head’s still misty with self-doubt until Louis curls his fingers over Harry’s wrists to tug him closer. Harry goes easily, sighing softly when their mouths bump together. He can feel Louis smile against his lips, and it’s so sweet, the uneasiness from moments before melting away. Kissing Louis is like healing the parts of him that he didn’t know needed a stitch or two. “You taste _so_ good,” Louis murmurs, his fingers squeezing restlessly at Harry’s hips.  
  
 

Harry’s cheek dimples in as he climbs into Louis’ lap, settling down with a sigh. “Do you want anything? What do you want?” Harry pecks Louis’ mouth feverishly, over the side of his jaw to kiss the scruff growing in. Harry chances a kiss to Louis’ neck, and he can feel him tensing, just once. Louis hums instead of responding, bites and tugs at his bottom lip until Harry’s grinding down on him with a whimper, shuddering a breath and staring at Harry half-lidded. Harry can see his pupils starting to dilate and feel his nails getting sharper. Rut. He forgets how fast it happens. The air turns sauna thick with Louis’ scent, and he tries breathing through his mouth, his cock hardening just from this.  


Harry cups his face gently, and Louis’ stare intensifies, like he’s just focused in on Harry. He looks like he wants to _eat_ Harry up, and it makes him flush all the way down to his toes. _Mate me,_ Harry thinks, stupidly, ducking his face into Louis’ neck, feeling embarrassed for a moment. Louis’ hands travel down his back, pressing to his spine.

“Do you want me?” Harry asks, tilting his face up shyly to Louis hoping he looks good for Louis.  


“Yes,” Louis growls out, pressing him into the bed. Louis rolls his hips down, and Harry whimpers, his cock filling with arousal. He’s so turned on that he’s dizzy. “You smell so good. Where’s that coming from?”  


“I…after my shower,” Harry stammers, panting, red in the ears because even with everything that’s happened, he’s still so _slutty_ for it. Has been waiting all week for this moment. This isn’t how he pictured Louis’ rut going, but he can _smell_ how badly Louis wants him, that tangy, musky scent making his belly crawl, and that’s all he needs.  


“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis grabs him by the backs of his thighs and folds him in half. Harry whines when Louis just barely noses against his sensitive, soft skin, his beard tickling when Harry shifts his hips. Louis growls then, flattening his tongue right on Harry’s hole, tasting the synthetic slick that Harry used to finger himself open in the bathroom.  


Louis goes in again, licking and licking, fluttering his tongue and circling Harry’s hole. Harry feels absolutely devoured and folded like this, he can’t do anything but grasp on to the backs of his legs, his head tossed to the side. It feels so good, and his groin is building with heat.  


“Fuck me, please...Louis, _Alpha.”  
  
_

Louis pulls away, his thumbs still pressed into Harry’s thighs, and Harry lifts his head to meet his gaze, whimpering again when he sees the ring of electric blue around his eyes. “Please...please, need you,” Harry shudders, undulating his hips.  
  
  
Louis lets him go, and Harry flips onto his front with shaky legs, pushing his arse up into the air, presenting himself to Louis. This is where he was made to be, just like this, for Louis. For himself to feel unmeasurably whole. His back is bowed, and Harry thinks he looks as good as any omega out there, and Louis must think so, too, because he pushes the tip of his thumb into Harry’s hole, teasing him.  
 

“Lube?”  
  
  
“Don’t need anymore, promise,” Harry huffs.  
  
  
Louis pushes two fingers in at once, like he’s testing Harry’s word, groaning when they go in easily. Harry makes a gutteral noise and relaxes, letting his muscles adjust to Louis’ perfect fingers, and Louis’ quick and efficient with it, hastily scissoring Harry open. Harry’s impatiently circling his hips back, trying to greedily fuck back on them.  
  
  
Louis moves away for a moment, and Harry’s left panting, bum high in the air. Then it happens, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a keen when Louis lines up and sinks in, spreading him wide open with his thumbs. Harry’s back arcs even further when Louis pulls out and slams back in, lighting him up. It feels so good that Harry sobs, feeling _full_ and stretched out. Louis’ quiet, but he grunts as he moves, directly nailing Harry’s prostate with every stroke now. He’s not even pulling out, just grinding on him in endless circles until Harry’s trembling all over. It’s so good that he’s _drooling_ on the hotel bedsheets; he doesn’t understand how this can feel so good.  
  
  
And then Louis’ gone. Harry’s brow furrows, and he glances over his shoulder, wiggling his arse for more. “ _Lou.”  
  
_

“Ride me,” Louis commands, smacking his hand down once on Harry’s cheek, and Harry’s face goes red as he yelps more out of surprise than out of pain. Harry’s clumsy, shaking with adrenaline, arousal, his cock bobbing up toward his stomach when he rolls onto his side. Louis sits back and smirks, watching Harry hungrily. Harry licks his lips and climbs onto Louis’ thighs, steadying himself using his knees while Louis touches his side, scratching his nails down. Come on then, his gaze says.  


Harry takes Louis’ cock in his hand, pumping, thumbing over his slit and the wetness of slick and precum. He’s already forming a knot at the base, and Harry swallows, lifting up, thighs shaking when he sinks down, the angle feeling like he’s being opened up for the first time. Harry bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying to adjust to it, whining, every nerve lighting up from Louis’ perfect cock.  
  
  
Louis is deadly quiet, and all the blood’s rushing to Harry’s ears when he opens his eyes again, lifting up and fucking himself down with a cry. Louis flinches once, his gaze unwavering as Harry moans, “ _Louis, Lou,_ oh, my god, ah!” Louis looks _drunk_ and glassy-eyed from it, so Harry does it again, fucking down and clenching at once.

  
He gets a good rhythm going, head tossed back, whimpering every time his swollen, used prostate rubs against Louis’ cock.  


But then Louis suddenly yelps, “Bounced check,” frightfully low, yanking his hands off Harry’s hips.  


“What?” Harry blinks dazedly.  
  
  
“Harry, get off me.”  
  
  
“Lou—”  
  
  
“ _I said get off_ ,” Louis snarls, voice strange. It’s his alpha voice, and it makes Harry’s claws come out, his teeth, too. He’s baring his teeth, but he scrambles off, and Louis shoots up into a sitting position, throwing the duvet off like it’s covered in ants. They’re both panting and watching each other, Louis a slumped line compared to Harry, who’s beyond tense and feels like he could snap in half.

  
  
“I’m sorry,” Louis blurts and turns away from Harry. “I’m sorry...I can’t,” he whispers. Harry watches him gather a shirt and his shorts, stepping away from the bed while shoving his arms and legs through.

  
  
The door slams shut with a soft click.

 

\----

 

_Now_

 

The room still smells sharply of sex. Harry lies in the tangle of sheets, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. In and out, slowly, he feels his limbs coming back together, stitching around the skeleton of his hollowed body.

  
  
Harry’s never felt utterly and completely _empty_ before. He steps carefully over the edge of the bed and slips on his tossed pajama bottoms and a wrinkled shirt. The carpet is scratchy on his feet, and he swallows, his pulse quickening. Where did Louis go? _He ran away from you_ . He’s in rut.

  
  
Find Louis. _Find Louis._

 

Harry grabs the hotel key and stuffs it into his pocket before he heads out, peeking around the corner. The hall’s empty, and the scent neutralizers are doing their job of masking any one scent from lingering too long. Harry huffs, padding barefoot through the corridor.

  
Louis’ in rut. He’s not in his right mind, Harry resolves, calming himself down. _He would find you, so find him._

 

Harry goes floor to floor, step by step, all the way to the lobby. The receptionist says she hasn’t seen anyone pass by in the last hour, so Harry tries again, eventually finding his way onto the roof. He thinks he catches Louis’ scent up here, but the blank rubberized roof leads him to a dead end. Harry’s stomach is full of worry, so heavy that he thinks he’s going to vomit.  
  
  
Eventually, he passes the pool and sees a figure sitting at the edge. Harry does a double take because the shape looks like Louis from the back, sitting on the concrete lip, but he knows that Louis isn’t a fan of deep water. He swipes his keycard and turns the handle, and the figure tenses, hearing the click. Harry's eyes adjust to the darkness. “Lou?”  


Louis turns his head, finally, looking guilty, looking like he wants to bolt, but he has nowhere else to go, and that _stings_. His eyes are back to normal, just slightly dilated.

 

Harry’s jaw sets, and he strides forward, opening his mouth to demand an answer when Louis takes in a deep breath and beats him to it, “Look, I know this isn’t a good excuse, but you told me you loved me the other night when we fell asleep on the couch at me mum’s. And I...I didn’t want to hurt you.”  
  
  
Harry blinks owlishly at him, his insides swirling in a vortex, his thoughts fragmented. He hadn’t known that he’d done that. But...hurt him? Does Louis mean that he doesn’t love Harry back, that he doesn’t want to hurt him emotionally? He squeezes his fists together, his own breathing loud in his ears. “Because you don’t love me?”  
  
  
Louis’ eyes go wide, and he pulls his feet out of the pool quickly, scrambling to Harry. “No, no, no. Oh, god. I...I don’t feel like m’self, and I don’t want to physically _hurt_ you, Harry, because I love you, _so much_ , I would never forgive myself. And I’ve never…I thought I had control of my rut, but I don’t,” he babbles all in one exhale.

  
It’s the most convoluted confession, and it makes Harry’s head reel a bit. His cheeks are heating up, but he’s still so viciously fucking hurt and confused right now, squeezing his fingernails deeper into the palms of his fist, so hard that his knuckles turn white. Louis doesn’t come any closer, looking very much like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.  
  
  
  
“Okay…,” Harry drawls out, slow and blinking. “You love me?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“Like, you’re in love with me?”  
  
  
“Yes, Harry.”  


“Why didn’t you… say so.”  
 

“I meant to—”  
 

“Why did you just _leave_ me in there?” Harry nearly shouts, but he holds it back, chokes it off, like he’s about to cry. And, in fact, he might be. Louis finally comes closer, wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders and tucks him into him, even though Harry can feel how tense Louis is, his back rigid, and it makes Harry cry harder.

  
“Because even though I’m in love with you, my body still has to catch up,” he murmurs, miserably. “God, I’m sorry that I hurt you, love.”  


Harry's anger fades away to something dull again, and he presses himself as close as he can get to Louis, rubbing his face into his neck.  
 

“I didn't feel in control. Like, I was really close to apex,” he explains, sorting through his words carefully, and Harry’s eyes go wide. _Apex_ . Going completely primal. Losing his state of humanity in rut. Harry didn't even know it was even possible. “It scares me. More than drowning in a pool. More than anything in the world. And I feel so fucking _stupid_ that I can’t control it.”  
  
  
Louis’ voice is strained and thin, and he buries his head in Harry’s neck, inhaling, even if his body is fighting him at every turn. Harry can feel his hot, wet tears pressing into his skin, and he exhales, licking his lips and pulling Louis closer.  
  
  
Harry never thought he’d be grateful being an alpha at this moment. He understands, completely. Deeply. The ricocheting primal need that comes in rut, the way his brain shuts off, and he becomes this otherly thing. He doesn’t know how he didn’t hurt Louis during _his_ rut, he had just thought, well, Louis must be special, they must be a special, unique thing. Harry tends to get caught up in romantic idealizations, and he knows they’re stupid and reckless, and that bodies sometimes don’t do what we want them to do, but Louis has perfect control. And during rut, this translates into him very nearly reaching an apex state when he’s being challenged by another alpha. Even if they’re in love. “I…I understand.”  


“You do?” Louis asks, lifting his face. He looks young and vulnerable, and Harry swipes his thumb across his unfairly sharp cheekbones. Harry nods, incrementally.  
  
  
“I do,” Harry sighs. His guts still feel tangled up, and he is, in a way, still angry. Because it’s fucking unfair that he can’t even fuck the person he loves whenever he wants and how he wants.  
  
  
“But you can’t do that again. You can’t just leave me and not talk to me about it.” Deep down, he knows that Louis might never have explained it, even if he’d come back eventually. “You have to talk to me, Louis, about _whatever_ you’re going through. You have to help me understand. I’m your fucking _boyfriend_ , for god’s sake. And you love me, so you can’t just treat me like shit,” Harry seethes, still jaggedly hurt.

  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Louis sighs, pressing his lips to Harry’s just once in apology. He finally pulls away, his body relaxing. They stare at each other for an eternity before Louis winces and says, “I-I think I have to get a separate room.”  


Harry feels his heart drop to his knees, but he swallows and manages a soft, “If you think that's what's best.”  


“I do...I’ve just got to sort if out m’self, unfortunately,” Louis grimaces. “Can feel it coming back.”

 

Harry nods, solemnly.

 

\---

  
Harry can’t help his dejected slump all the way up the lift after they sort out the extra room, his bare feet cold against the metal flooring. It feels awful. The hollow feeling is back again, and even though he’s standing next to Louis, he still feels miles apart.  
  
  
The lift doors open, and Louis reaches out to loop his pinky with Harry’s, prompting a smile from Harry, big and sad all at once. He shakes his hand away first, and Louis sighs, but he steps out of the lift, Harry trailing after.  


They’re at opposite ends, so they shuffle around each other; Harry ducks his head, not sure if he can handle looking at the person he loves right now.

 

“Goodnight. I love you,” Louis says, his voice clear, straight to Harry’s soul.

  
“Goodnight, I love you, too,” he whispers back, finally catching Louis’ eyes.

 

\--

 

His mobile is ringing on the nightstand where he'd left it as soon as he’s through the door. Harry sighs because without a doubt, it's his mum, asking if they’d got back okay, how it went. She’s held off calling him all weekend, which he knows is killing her.  


He misses the call before he can pick up, but he can see that he’s missed three calls from her and two voicemails. She must be worried. She’s going to know immediately that something’s wrong, but he can’t not call her back.

“Finally picked up, you had me worried! Have you gotten back safely, then?   
  
  
“Hi, mum,” he mumbles. A pause.  


“What’s wrong? Was it horrible?”  


“No, it was amazing. His family is amazing. He...I’m so in love with him, mum,” he chokes out.  
 

“Then why do you sound like that?”

  
Harry's lip quivers. “Mum, I have to tell you something. About me.”

 

\--

 

They talk for a long time, and Harry tells her about not ever feeling like an alpha, about never feeling like he’s fit into anything in particular, and it’s a lot. It's not until after he's cried a second time on the phone with his mum about what just happened that he gets a FaceTime trill. Harry's eyes are puffy from over-crying, his nose is raw from using shitty hotel loo paper, and he hasn't eaten since noon, so he almost declines the call. But his blurry eyes focus on the “Lou,” and his heart twists. He hits answer after a quick debate, biting his lip.  
 

It's dark enough in the room that Louis won't see how absolutely awful he looks, but Louis’ pixelated head appears on the screen, and he's relieved when louis looks just as bad. “Harry,” his voice is ragged, and Harry can tell that he’s got a hand around his cock, still in the thick of his rut.  


Harry presses a thumb against his lips and smiles at Louis.  
  
  
“Stay on the phone with me? Please?” Louis begs, his voice so raw that it makes Harry ache.  
  
  
“Of course. Course I will, Lou.”  
  
  
Louis exhales, and Harry loves him. Louis groans out miserably, and Harry winces in sympathy. The screen lags, and Harry kisses his mobile on a dark blur of Louis.

  
\----

 

It feels like they hold their breaths through Louis’ three-day rut and during the hour-ride back home, and they don’t exhale until they step foot into their cheery flat. Harry isn’t sure if things have knit back together yet, but life goes on. He has classes. Louis has a long paper to write plus work. They don’t have time to question it. In quiet pockets of his own time, Harry turns the weekend over in his mind, how it could have been different. How he’s still hopelessly in love with Louis, no matter what way he looks at it.  


And every night, they come together. Harry sighs when Louis comes back from the bathroom, the warm spot that Lou had left filling up again. He’s scooped up in his arms, and Louis tucks his nose into Harry’s sleep-warmed shoulder. He cherishes every second.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. It’s still dark out.  


“Mmm...s’early.”  
  
  
“Harry,” Louis says, voice clearer this time. He kisses Harry’s shoulder as a goofy smile tugs at Harry’s lips. He huffs out, the exhale thick with sleep. This is the tenderness that he deserves.  
  
  
“I want this to be the first time that you hear it. Pretend you just heard it for the first time.”  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
“I’m in love with you.”  
  
  
  
The hitch in Harry’s breath is real. It does feel like the first time, somehow. There’s an unfamiliar yanking beneath him, like the whole world’s been flipped up, and the only thing catching him is Louis’ chest pressed to his back. Harry’s lip quivers, and he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet.  
  
  
“Was that… that’s alright, isn’t it?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, choked up.  
  
  
“I’m in love with you, too. I am...so much, Lou.”  
  
  
“I was worried you weren’t. Because of…”  
  
  
“No. I could never,” Harry interrupts, wiggling out of his grasp so that he can flip around and face him. Louis’ eyes are wide open, glinting in the darkness; he looks so nervous.  
  
  
“Thought I mucked it up.”  
  
  
Harry takes his face in his hands and kisses him. Louis’ smile is nervous and watery, but he kisses him back. “You’ll never scare me off, Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
  
Louis’ smile is brighter than the sun. “Louis _William_ Tomlinson, thank you very much.”  
  
  
Harry cackles, giggling so much that it hurts his sides. Louis’ doing his stupid hissy laugh through his nostrils, and that’s when he knows they’ll be alright.  


“You make me the happiest,” Harry tells him, seriously. “You make me the saddest, too. But that’s how I know I love you, I think.” Louis presses his thumb into Harry’s dimple.  


“That’s the part that scares me, too.”  
  
  
“Why, though?” Harry knits his brows together.  
  
  
“I don’t know, it’s a lot, I guess. I just don’t want to…I never wanna make you sad. As your partner.”  
  
  
“Partner,” Harry repeats.  
  
  
“Boyfriend,” Louis corrects.  
  
  
“I like the word partner. I like the word ‘spouse,’ too.” Louis’ breath hitches.  


“You’ve thought that far ahead?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry admits, shyly. Always the romantic. He hopes it’s not too much.

  
“I have, too,” Louis confesses, equally shyly.  
  
  
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of. Because I’m here to stay.”

 

Louis kisses him, and Harry sighs softly, letting himself be tugged closer, letting himself be kissed and kissed and kissed until he drifts off to sleep like that, their mouths pressed together in a smile.

 


End file.
